He also wasn’t staring at a man. Not really.

But rather, he was looking at a combination of both.

This was Trace?

Trace saw him, and his lips peeled away from his teeth, revealing fully extended fangs. He jumped toward Dante, but the silver chains that were locked around his wrists and ankles jerked Trace back.

Claws burst from the man’s fingers—long claws, easily as sharp as knives. Trace was big—too tall, too wide—with muscles bulging over his body. His eyes were wild, feral, glowing. Currently looking at Dante with a bright hatred.

Trace’s features were sharp, hard, very much like a wolf’s, but he wasn’t a wolf.

Was he?

“Trace, please. Calm down!” Cassie said as she pushed Dante back. “I’m a friend, remember? Friend.”

Those glowing eyes slid to her. The man-beast’s muscles bulged, and Dante was afraid that the guy was about to rip those chains right from the wall.

He sure looked strong enough to do it.

“I’m Cassie, remember? I help you.”

“Help.” That guttural growl was no human’s voice. If a wolf could talk—that one could—Dante figured it would sound just like that snarling sound.

Cassie nodded. “That’s right. Dante and I are both here to help you.”

The glowing stare came back to Dante once more.

Then the man-beast gave a sharp shake of his head. “Kill,” he growled as he looked straight at Dante.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. Come on and try, beast. I’ll fry that fur right off you.

Cassie hurried toward a cabinet on the right. She pressed her thumb against the screen on a small locking pad, and the lock hissed open. “I need to give him his dosage. He’s due for one now, and Charles always gets nervous when he has to come inside and do it.”

Charles was afraid the wolf would eat him.

The glowing stare followed Cassie’s movements. The beast looked like he wanted to make a meal of her.

Not happening.

“How much of him is man?” Dante demanded. He wanted to know just what he was dealing with in that room.

“All of him,” Cassie snapped as she pulled out a needle from the cabinet. “Trace is in there, and from what I’ve determined, he understands everything we say.”

Dante realized the beast was staring at him. He bared his own teeth. “Screw off.”

The beast heaved against his chains.

So he did understand.

“Dante! Don’t! Don’t antagonize him in any way. Trace is inside, but the Lycan-70 dosage that he was given put his beast in charge. He can’t change back to his normal form, and he can’t shift fully. He’s”—her breath exhaled on a rush—“trapped like this.”

In a form somewhere between man and beast.

She headed toward Trace, acting like she didn’t see the claws and fangs that would rip her apart.

Dante grabbed her.

The man-beast snarled.

Dante snarled right back then told Cassie, “You aren’t injecting him! Get Charles and his cowardly ass back in here to do the job!”

She shook her head, sending her hair brushing over his arm. “Trace isn’t going to hurt me.”

Dante wasn’t in the mood to test that theory.

“He won’t,” Cassie said, sounding so sure. “I’ve given him dozens of injections, and he’s never attacked me.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Dante didn’t let her go. “If his beast is in control, he could attack at any moment.”

Her fingers tightened around the syringe. “He won’t. Just . . . give me a minute to do this, all right? Once he gets the dosage, he’ll be calmer. He always is.”

Dante wasn’t sure he bought that bullshit. The thing he was sure of? He didn’t want Cassie getting any closer to Trace.

“Give it to me,” Dante gritted because he knew what he had to do.

She blinked.

Dante smothered a sigh. “Give me the damn syringe. If anyone’s getting close to the guy, it sure won’t be you.” He could handle himself if the wolf got wild. He’d just burn the beast.

But Cassie was hesitating. “I don’t want you killing him.” Dante took the syringe from her. “Then he’d better not attack me.”

Sure enough, as he stepped toward that man-beast, the guy tried to lunge for him.

“You don’t want to piss me off,” Dante told him, voice flat. “You won’t like it when the anger burns through me. No one ever does.”